


Have You Ever Been In Love

by bloodsugar



Series: My Heart Only Beats For You Without Stopping, Telling Me I’m Ready To Go [6]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Bundesliga, Dating, EURO 2016 Qualifiers, Germany NT - Freeform, M/M, Pining, Yearning, crude language, implied Erik Durm/Marco Reus, side Thomas Mueller/Mario Gomez
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 05:51:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2298758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsugar/pseuds/bloodsugar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Germany NT is finally together again for the Euro 2016 Qualifiers. Hotel room arrangements are going to be the same as in Brazil, right? Wrong. Manu and Chris struggle with the distance, and they're not the only ones. </p><p>AKA The One In Which Erik And Marco Are The Only Pair That Makes Sense<br/>OR The One In Which Thomas Saves The Day</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have You Ever Been In Love

 

 

 

 

 

The Euro 2016 Qualifiers can’t come soon enough, but they do come. Manuel spends the days leading up to them training his ass of with Bayern, then working out and running as much as he can to distract himself and get himself in shape at the same time. It really works – it gives him perspective about what’s happening (or rather, what hasn’t been happening) and it helps him get physically ready for the matches. It’s good they’re starting with a friendly against Argentina because he doesn’t want to be out of practice. After the intensity of the World Cup, it does feel more or less like Manuel has a match once an eternity, even if that isn’t the case. He misses that intensity, the frequency of the games and the many training sessions between them.

 

And of course, the best part, the National Team being together for it. It’s only a bonus that Chris happens to be in it. Alright, Manuel’s got to admit it’s not a bonus, it is the center point of it all. For him, it feels that way lately, anyway. Before, Bayern used to take center stage in his mind - as his club and his home; and now Germany NT is not so slowly taking over that spot in his heart and Manuel doesn’t even want to fight it. It feels right. And Chris definitely has a hand in it. After all, they’re on the team together. Literally and physically, together. Finally together, the goal keeper would say but he doesn’t want to sound like a wistful teenage girl. Or like an army wife. It’s not like Chris goes off to war every time he has to go back to Mönchengladbach.

 

But Manuel doesn’t want to think about them being apart when the time to be together has finally come again.

 

They have one training session before the friendly against Argentina. Everyone arrived separately, by their own means of transport, with the exception of Bastian and Lukas who seemed to arrive together yet again. Manuel would wonder if the two ever actually parted if the answer wasn’t so obvious – they didn’t. Coach Loew gives a couple of announcements about match timing and team scheduling at the beginning of the training session, and the goalkeeper spends the majority of that time eyeing Christoph, who is standing next to Mats on the far end of the bench they’re sharing. Manuel thinks he’s too far away and wants to reach for the boy’s hand and tug him into his lap, but given that they are surrounded by their team mates, most of whom are straight with girlfriends and kids, he decides against it. It would be unprofessional and inappropriate and they’d probably end up making out in front of everybody regardless of it, because that’s how thirsty Manuel is for a taste of Chris’ mouth. They barely had enough time to say hi and hug without lingering too much and acting suspicious before everybody had gathered together.

 

Manuel is ready to train. He’s ready to get started with the session, to practice hard and get as ready as he can for the match. He’s ready to win it and to have drinks with the team after to celebrate. He is ready to show the world Germany NT is not done being the best in the world, and the team is about to strengthen their reputation further. He is definitely ready to get the training over with and “retire” to a hotel room with a bottle of something tasty and someone even tastier. Manuel’s concentration is lacking significantly during the session and he gets a couple of strange looks from his team mates. Jerome is giving him a smile like he knows a secret. The goal keeper supposes that isn’t too far off of the truth. Loew approaches him eventually, a serious expression set on his face. Manuel vaguely feels like a middle-schooler about to be scolded on his lacking performance.

 

 “With Philipp’s retirement from national football being officially celebrated tomorrow, and Bastian not playing the match, you will be the captain.” The coach announces and Manuel stiffens to his full height, training his gaze on the older man with conviction. Until Loew approached him, he’d been stalking Chris with his eyes like a cat about to pounce. It isn’t a good look on him, he gathers from the disapproving expression on the coach’s face. So he nods seriously, trying to look engaged. And he is engaged. Being captain is an honor and a responsibility, and he is proud to have it be his own. Manuel will be focused. He has no reason to be too distracted anyway, he and Chris are about to have ten days together with the team’s activities, after all. He just needs to take the edge off; that is all.

 

After Loew walks off, Manuel catches Chris’ gaze from across the field. The boy is smiling again, open and alluring in the most genuine of ways. Manuel loves the younger man’s purity, and he loves being the one to experience it up close and personal. He gives Chris a wave, and a smile, trying not to be too obvious about the feeling of satisfaction spreading through his chest. Of course, he fails abysmally because Jerome chooses that exact moment to kick a ball in his direction, and Manuel being “focused” as he is, does not manage to block it and it meets the back of the net. He turns to face Jerome, eyeing his shirt and gesturing to it, annoyed. “You’re not even on the opposing team! You’re supposed to be defending.” He snaps, letting his tone take a nagging edge. The defender seems completely unfazed, in turn, if anything he appears to be smirking.

 

“Don’t blame me for your distracted state, captain.” Jerome’s voice is filled with sarcasm at that last word, and it makes Manuel feel indignant. He makes his point by saving nine out of the next nine attempts at goal, and tries not to preen when Chris enthusiastically gives him the thumbs up. He fails that too if Mario’s boyish giggle is of any indication. Jerome is bad influence on that boy, Manuel decides.

 

 

 

After the end of the training session, once everyone has taken their much needed shower and line-up has been discussed for the second time, Erik and Marco start a bet about who will be scoring the first goal. Mario joins in on the action, lured in too easily, while André and Mats shake their heads on the side. Manuel is inclined to agree with them, whatever they may be thinking – bets are stupid, and they’re even more useless when it comes to friendly matches. He’s about to say this out loud, when Chris appears next to him, grinning like he’s having the time of his life and fishing ten euro out of his jeans. Manuel would give him a disapproving look for joining this silly wager, but he is too busy noting that Christoph’s blue shirt matches his eye color nicely and that his skin is still not fully dry. He looks good, in an adorable wet puppy kind of way, and the goal keeper has a certain appreciation for that look.

 

Meanwhile on the side, the other Mario is on the receiving end of Thomas’ rant about Italian football ruining good German footballers. Reclining back against a locker, Gomez looks entirely unimpressed with Thomas’ argument, but he is keeping quiet and listening intently, like a husband’s practiced manner of appeasing his wife. Manuel wonders if this sort of dynamic works for his team mates, but he guesses it must, if they’re still friends even after a full season of Mario playing for Florentina. They’ve somehow made space work, and it both gives the goal keeper hope, and makes him apprehensive. He does not want to envision himself, a year from now, cornering Chris against a locker and babbling about Mönchengladbach ruining good players while the younger man rolls his eyes at him.

 

Once everyone has joined or rejected the ridiculous bet, people start leaving one by one or in pairs, just as Manuel is stuffing his green jersey into his duffel. Someone’s manager was handing out the hotel room arrangements list earlier and since he didn’t get a copy, Manuel has to look around the locker room for a spare. He bumps into Erik in his search, barely managing an apology, only to be dismissed with ease by the young midfielder. Eventually he gives up, deciding to just ask whoever’s left around. When he straightens up, Thomas is eyeing him with evident amusement, leaning back against the locker where Mario used to be a few minutes ago.

 

“What?” Manuel asks, casting a look around the locker room, and noting that it is just the two of them left in there. Where has Chris gone off to anyway? It’s not a good time to play hide and seek now that Manuel is about to drag him off to a nice hotel room, and do what comes naturally.

 

Thomas shakes his head some, baring his teeth in a grin. “You look like a curious beaver.” He says, and it’s one of the strangest things he has said all week. Then again, it is nowhere near the strange thing he has said in general, so Manuel just raises an eyebrow at him. “Huh?” he grunts, swinging his duffel bag over his shoulder and heading towards the door, holding it open for the younger man. Thomas follows him, walking out into the corridor. When Manuel joins him, he sees both Marios, Lukas and Marco in the distance. Where the hell is Christoph?

 

“What were you looking for?” Thomas asks as they walk toward the exit together. There is probably a bus waiting to drive everybody to their hotel. It reminds Manuel of Brazil, and he finds himself smiling some. Good times, he wishes he could re-live them but he has the present to focus on instead.

  
At the end of the corridor Mario Gomez has stopped to wait for them – for Thomas, really – and Manuel hurries to reply before they reach him. “The hotel rooming list. I don’t have it.” He says. Thomas is quick to look through his own bag for his copy, taking out the crumpled sheet of paper and handing it to the goal keeper. By now, they have reached Mario, who slips what he considers to be an inconspicuous arm around Thomas’ waist as the three of them walk toward the bus. Manuel gets separated from them easily, naturally alienated by the sensation of being the third wheel and by the fact that he’s got his nose in the list.

 

_Schweinsteiger – Müller_

_Podolski – Götze_

_Reus – Durm_

_Gomez – Kroos_

_Kramer – Schürrle_

_Boateng – Rudy_

_Höwedes – Neuer_

 

Manuel is frowning when they reach the bus, joining their team-mates. _Who made this list? Satan?_ Manuel grumbles to himself, and if looks could kill, his stare would light the list on fire already. He tries to come up with a plan to fix this mess there on the spot, and draws a blank. People move around him, and he barely acknowledges them until there is a steady presence beside him. He looks to his side to see Chris standing there, looking sheepish.

 

“Sorry I left.” The younger man gives him a little smile, and the twitching corners of his lips draw Manuel straight in. God, he is like a dog with a bone these days. Not that he would ever bite and chew on Christoph, he is gentler than that, usually.

 

“No worries.” He wants to sound kindly dismissive but probably ends up sounding coldly dismissive because Chris’ lips draw together into a pout as he gives Manuel a contemplating look. “I went looking for the hotel room list.” He explains himself, even though he doesn’t need to, and Manuel wants to pull him in by the waist and pet him until Christoph melts against him. But he doesn’t because their team mates are still boarding the bus and the ones who are inside can easily see them.

 

Manuel would show him the offending object in question but he doesn’t want to be the bearer of bad news and by the looks of it, Chris already seems to know they’re not sharing a room. It is disheartening and annoying. Manuel is frowning again, despite himself, searching his mind for ideas to combat fate’s disastrous decision to separate them. He idly considers asking André to switch with him, when Chris brings it up. The boy leans closer to him some. “I would ask André if he wants to maybe switch, but he looks so tired, I don’t want to bother him.” His concern is very sweet, and Manuel can see André slowly making his way on the bus, slower than the goal keeper has seen him move in a while. Maybe Benedikt would be a better choice. Manuel is about to go into the bus and ask him as Chris takes hold of his arm to bring his attention to him.

 

“We can switch tomorrow, yeah? I’ve a feeling we won’t be the only ones who want to.” The blond tilts his head toward the list in Manuel’s hand, and Manuel smirks despite himself. True that.  He straightens up, nodding, and guides Christoph to the bus, his hand barely touching the younger man’s back. They sit together on the left side, plenty of empty seats around them to give them a vague sense of privacy. A few seats behind them, Manuel can hear Marco and Mario chatting about the upcoming game against Argentina. Somewhere on the bus, must be close too, they can hear the music coming out of Jerome’s headphones, a distant latin tune. Enrique Iglesias and Pitbull or something, the stuff they’d hear in Brazil from time to time. It stuck with them all.

 

The ride over to the hotel is relatively quiet, with Chris looking out of the window; his lithe, long form slouched into the seat next to Manuel. He looks so peaceful, even if the older man can only see his profile and his soft blond hair, no longer wet from the shower he took. Manuel reaches over slowly and “fixes” Chris’ shirt collar even though it needs no fixing. On cue, Chris’ body curls toward him just a little, enough for Manuel to see and feel. It is such a simple gesture of intimacy, but it means everything somehow. The goalkeeper leans in, touching his side to Chris’.

 

“Dinner tonight?” He asks, making no grand plans about making it some fancy date. They’re both tired, just like their team mates, and it makes perfect sense to just take their opportunity to be together where they can find it. Manuel figures a quiet dinner at the hotel restaurant, followed by a short walk in Düsseldorf would do them both good.

 

Christoph tilts his head toward him, their heads nearly touching for a moment before he pulls back enough to look Manuel in the eye. His blue eyes are so vivid, as always, and there is a lot in them the goal keeper can’t quite put a name to. The younger man nods. “Dinner’s good. I’m hungry.” He mumbles, and his gaze is getting hooded. Manuel sees himself tucking him in bed after their dinner, with André’s confused eyes widened at the sight of it. He sighs. “Me too.”

 

 

 

Dinner isn’t as quiet as they were hoping it would be which is mainly due to the crammed restaurant. There are couples and families and groups of people on every table, and it reminds Manuel that Düsseldorf is in fact a big city that doesn’t sleep just because he wants it to. Still, he scores himself and Chris a table in a nice little corner of the restaurant, where they have a level of privacy most of the other patrons do not. A few tables down, next to the large window facing the garden, Mario Götze and Jerome are having dinner as well. Manuel doesn’t know how he would expect them to be dressed, but their semi-formal wear does make them look like they’re trying to make a good impression. On the people around them and in general, or on each other, Manuel isn’t quite sure. He focuses on Chris instead, because he isn’t sure he’s ready for more realizations about his team mates.

 

Chris is really focused on the menu for the first few minutes, and Manuel lets him be so. The boy is hungry and he’s quiet because of that hunger, so that problem must be fixed. Manuel settles on stake and salad for himself, and a beer. Eventually Chris chooses the lasagna and white wine and they’re left alone by the young waitress with a star struck look in her eye. Maybe they will share something sweet for dessert, the goal keeper ponders before leaning forward some.

 

“You good?” He tries not to sound concerned, but he can’t help it. Something about Christoph brings out a protective side of him he has little control over. The boy smiles at him, and it’s that familiar big smile, which immediately soothes Manuel.

 

“I’m very good.” Chris reassures him, and his eyes take on a more aware, present look. He takes a sip of his water, and looks less tired. “I’m happy to be here.” He says, gaze holding Manuel’s, looking somehow both steady and playful. Manuel likes that look a lot; it’s the look that Chris seduced him with after all. If seduction is what one would call this.

 

“I’m happy to be here too.” Manuel says, grinning, feeling alive. This is the moment they’ve been waiting for, for like two months now. Many full days together are ahead of them. After a night of good rest, they will be good as new tomorrow. He reaches over the table and takes Chris’ hand in his for a long moment, squeezing it briefly, as they sit there smiling at each other. It is peaceful, and it’s almost like there is nobody else in the restaurant with them at all.

 

Almost. Chris is the first to withdraw his hand, with an easy smile. The waitress brings their drinks and his eyes are glistening at Manuel over is glass of wine as he drinks some. Something tugs in the goal keeper’s chest at that, responding to the boy’s gaze. He wants to tell Chris about all these nights he wished they could have dinner together like this – but just the two of them, without all these other people surrounding them – but he can’t say it with so many eager ears surely listening in. Instead, he talks about the upcoming match, and their expectations.

 

“I’m not nervous. Actually, I’m excited to finally play a full game for the team.” Chris tells him, and Manuel can’t say he doesn’t agree. The World cup was great because Chris made his debut for the team there against Algeria, but it was short and not enough in the slightest. Tomorrow Chris will play the full 90 minutes and that feels right somehow and definitely well deserved. Manuel will watch him from his position at the goal with a distinct sense of pride, and hopefully he won’t be too distracted by the sight. He is a professional, after all.

 

“Captain Neuer.” Chris says cheekily as their food arrives, which prompts the waitress to linger at their table longer than necessary until Manuel scares her off with a cold look. Christoph laughs at this heartily, the sound making the goal keeper break into a smile himself. “Captain Neuer,” he repeats “Such a cold, unfriendly man he is.” The boy teases and Manuel rolls his eyes, still smiling.

 

“I will tip her well, I promise.” He says with a shrug. He doesn’t care about the waitress, he cares about Chris. Casting a lingering gaze over the boy’s body, Manuel relaxes some into his chair.

 

“My hero.” Chris gushes, then cackles quietly into his glass. Manuel figures his wine is making him playful but he has had no more than couple of sips. Even if he is joking and teasing, the idea of being his hero makes Manuel’s chest puff out. He barely catches himself looking all proud and cocky. Man, he is so gone.

 

They talk about the Euro 2016, and about the World Cup. What will be different, what might be the same. Chris tells him they will win again, for sure, because they have the best team. Manuel agrees with ease, because it is true.

 

Chris tells him about Mönchengladbach and how he’s been living there the past couple of weeks. Tells Manuel everything seems boring and mundane all of a sudden, and it didn’t use to be that way. “Maybe it is the taste of Brazil we got.” He muses after swallowing a mouthful of pasta. Manuel shrugs a little bit, that would be his theory too.

 

“You know, Munich would be more to your taste.” He can’t help himself, he has to bring this up. Chris is grinning at him over the table, entertained. This isn’t the first time Manuel brings this up, after all. “Bigger city, more people, more things to do.” The goal keeper adds, as an afterthought, like this is just a casual talk and he definitely isn’t hoping Bayern will buy Chris any day now.

 

Chris chuckles a little. “More people to do.” He winks at Manuel shamelessly, and the older mans stiffens. Surely.. Chris isn’t talking about sleeping with other people, is he? It just now occurs to Manuel that they never really had a talk about exclusivity or anything of the sort. As far as they both know, they’re free agents; available to do whatever and whomever they want. Suddenly, the steak tastes rotten in his mouth. He lets his knife and fork rest on his plate and contemplates Christoph with a look.

 

The younger man is finishing his meal, chewing on the last of his pasta, looking full and content. The meal has definitely helped him look happier and healthier. Manuel feels sick and miserable in comparison, and it’s not because of the food. He scowls at the table, his mind supplying numerous ideas and images about Chris and random faceless men and women he would rather not think about. Shifting in his chair, Manuel finally clears his throat.

 

“You uh…” He starts, eloquently, then pauses. How does he bring this up now. It’s been amost two months since they started … He’s not even sure what this thing they have started is. He already considers Chris his boyfriend, even if the word sounds all serious and promising. They’ve been having the time of their lives together, and pining after each other when they were apart, and the last thing they thought to consider was labels and talks about status. But Manuel has barely slept with his long-term girlfriend since he and Christoph started this, and the idea that Chris may have been sleeping around with a bunch of people all this time really does not agree with him. He’s not sure how to start, but he may as well tackle the subject.

 

“Have you been… you know, sleeping with more people?” Manuel asks, his voice quiet enough for the question to only reach Chris. He doesn’t want to look inquisitive or demanding or anything of the sort, but he feels serious. It isn’t usually his style, but if he must, he will have to lay a claim on Chris right now, during dinner in a crowded restaurant in Düsseldorf.

 

To his credit, Chris looks completely shocked for a second, his eyes wide and unblinking, before he starts shaking his head vigorously. “No! Uh.” He swallows his last bite in a hurry, and Manuel can’t help but follow the motion of his throat working around the food with some concern. He doesn’t want the younger man to choke. “Of course not.” Chris says, his tone a somewhat high. The look he is giving Manuel speaks volumes – it is loaded with so much, and yet restrained, like they are things he can’t just say here and now. Manuel gets it, his timing is a bit poor, they really are not in the best position to discuss this. He nods, hoping to soothe the blond. Instead, Chris’ eyes search his, endlessly, almost nervously. “I haven’t, why would I?” He says, holding Manuel’s gaze with conviction. Manuel believes him.

 

“Me neither.” He admits, smiling a little. Realization is dawning on him quickly. Whatever this unnamed relationship they have is, it is the reason why he has been happier recently; and definitely the reason why his relationship with Katrin isn’t the same. He considers bringing this up, but why bother when it is clear. Instead, he gives Chris a warm look. “And I don’t intend to.” He says instead. The younger man looks like he’s about to blurt something out, but then gets a hold of himself and clears his throat.

 

“Me neither.” He echoes Manuel’s words, then downs the rest of his wine like it’s water. Manuel wonders if this is a ‘liquid courage’ thing. Is Christoph as overwhelmed by this whole thing as he is? He doesn’t ask out loud, but Chris’ fidgeting is enough of a reply. Manuel really wishes they could share a room tonight, and be together, and he is close to saying ‘fuck all’ and getting them a separate room, appearances be damned. Before the idea can grow on his mind, he waves for the waitress to bring the check over.

 

When Manuel is paying, and he did insist to, even if this isn’t an actual “date”, he sees their team mates get up from the corner of his eye. Chris’ back is to them, but he follows Manuel’s intrigued gaze to them. Mario is first to turn toward the exit, with Jerome following close behind. While they’re still within sight, Jerome turns to give Manuel and Chris a look over his shoulder, his hand resting on the small of Mario’s back. Like in some Hollywood movie, with a slow motion effect the defender winks at them, his lips upturned into a smirk. It is surreal. Manuel blinks twice, then shakes it off. Guess at least someone on their team had a date tonight.

 

 

 

The walk they take close to the hotel is short, but refreshing. Chris leans into him nicely, and Manuel slides his arm around his waist with ease. “Thanks for dinner, captain Neuer.” Chris tells him softly, a hint of humor in his voice as he shivers a little in the chilly air and curls into the goal keeper some. Manuel doesn’t care about the look that earns them from a passing stranger, a short brunette walking briskly by. She follows them with her eyes curiously and Manuel can swear he sees her chuckle to herself as she turns a corner and disappears out of view. Maybe she thinks they’re cute or something, he guesses, and as he nuzzles Chris’ temple shortly, the boy humming in response, he agrees – they are cute.

 

He walks Chris all the way up to his room on the 8th floor – and they’re not even on the same floor, and they hug goodnight, not wanting to risk it. Chris lingers in his embrace so long Manuel wonders if he has fallen asleep with his face pushed into the goal keeper’s shoulder. He could roll with that, pick Chris up and bring him down to his room. Snuggle up with him in his queen sized bed until Benedikt’s eyes popped out of their sockets. His fantasy is interrupted when Christoph pulls back with a sleepy smile.

 

“See you tomorrow, Manu.” He murmurs, his voice soft like a blanket. Manuel wants to drape himself over the boy like one, too. Instead, he gazes after Chris, even after the younger man has closed the door behind his back.

 

On his way to the elevator, Manuel thinks he hears distant moaning behind the door next to Chris’, but dismisses it. If it’s just his imagination, he can jerk off and forget about it. And if it’s real, well, at least someone is getting laid tonight. Which, as Manuel has already realized tonight, isn’t even the main thing he wants Christoph by his side for anyway.

 

 _Fuck_ , he thinks to himself, and smiles.

 

 

 

 

The next morning, Manuel takes a shower half asleep, while Benedikt urges him to get out faster because they will be late for breakfast. Manuel is not hungry, but he may as well join his team mates, one of whom is his boyfriend – he lingers on the term now, with a smirk – so he gets out of the shower promptly. Benedikt pats him on the shoulder on his way into the bathroom and slams the door shut with no regard to Manuel’s sensitive morning hearing. The goal keeper hears him through the door, humming some top 40 tune before calling out to him. “Don’t wait for me! Save me a seat at table, ok?”

 

“Fine!” Manuel calls back as he gets dressed, and grabs the room key card before exiting the room. He takes his phone out of his pocket to text Christoph that he is on his way down. Chris’ reply is surprisingly quick, a thumbs up and a smiley face. Manuel takes it as the green light to go on and pick him up. When the elevator opens, Jerome and Mario are standing in front of him, leaning on opposite sides of the elevator doors and sharing a look. Manuel’s mind supplies him with a bunch of scenarios he would rather not use his imagination for, so he smiles at them and greets them with a “Good morning.” He doesn’t wait for their reply, does not turn to look in their direction and gets Chris instead. Tries not to think that they weren’t even assigned the same room in the list. It’s breakfast time, after all, not Discuss-If-Your-Teammates-Fucked-Last-Night time.

 

Chris is sweet and sleepy when he closes the door and tells Manuel André is already downstairs and he saved them seats. What is with everyone saving each other seats, Manuel wonders vaguely and doesn’t ask out loud. Instead, he pulls Christoph close by the waist and squeezes the younger man to his side. Their bodies align perfectly and yet again Manuel gushes on the inside about their matching heights. There is a definite thrill in Chris being almost as tall as him, it feels steady and pleasing and right.

 

“Sleep well?” Manuel asks just to make sure, even though Chris looks plenty rested. Chris nods at him happily and leans against him in the elevator on their way down. Manuel kisses him softly on the lips before they reach the first floor because he feels daring and something tells him today will be a better day if he gets a kiss.

 

Despite their rooming arrangements, everyone seems to be fine at breakfast. Marco is sitting next to Mario, who is sitting next to the other Mario, who is next to André. On André’s other side, Thomas is giving Gomez a look of apparent disapproval and barely acknowledges Manuel and Chris’ presence when they sit next to him. “Good morning indeed.” Chris chuckles to himself as they sit down and Manuel tries not to smile. “Be nice.” He says, which is ironic, since between him and Chris, he is the mean one, and the younger man looks like he is about to point this out to him. Thankfully, he gets distracted by the jam Mats pushes towards him, and then busies himself with spreading it on a slice of bread. Benedikt arrives after half of the table is already done eating and Jerome and Erik are getting up to leave. With their two empty seats, Manuel can pretend he remembered to save him a seat.

 

 

 

They have a short training session around noon, and it is less about training and more about stretching their legs. Manuel doesn’t mind. He’d rather be on the pitch. Some of his team mates chose to go “sight seeing” aka shopping and drinking around Düsseldorf and as his other option, that was pretty unappealing to him. It’s just him and a handful of others, his boyfriend among them thankfully. It’s not that Manuel is clingy and possessive, per say, but while they’re on Germany NT business, he sure prefers it if Christoph stays in relatively close proximity. They don’t have to be attached at the side, but it helps when Manuel can look up from his place on the bench and see Chris practicing with Mario Götze in the middle of the pitch.

 

Next to him, resting from his little training session is Jerome. Manuel ignores him for the most part, since they’re both relaxing in silence. That is, until the goal keeper’s masochistic side has to pipe up and let curiosity get the best of him. “So how was last night?” He asks.

 

Jerome gives him an honest to God leer, looking oh so pleased with himself and that’s when Manuel knows he’s about hear more than what he signed up for. He kicks himself mentally. He doesn’t really want to know, why did he have to bring it up?

 

“It was hot.” Jerome says simply, then Manuel follows his gaze where it’s focused on Mario for a moment. Manuel shifts, feeling a bit awkward about it. Here they are, two men with girlfriends, looking at their boyfriends on the pitch. It’s really quite the latin drama to any outsider. Then again, he doesn’t know if Mario and Jerome are dating, but he has a sinking feeling he is about to find out. And sure enough, the defender continues, his tone dropping down a notch or two. “Sucked my dick like a pro, you feel me?” He takes long enough to turn to Manuel so that he doesn’t catch him momentarily gaping like a fish at his choice of words.

 

Manuel had forgotten how guy talk is sometimes. He doesn’t know how to respond, really, so he nods in understanding. Jerome nods as well, looking pleased. “He doesn’t look the part but man, he’s really something in bed. Not innocent at all.” He grins at this, and Manuel can tell the defender is replaying the events of last night in his head. “I’ve been wanting to hit it since before Brazil, you know. Last year when he joined us in Bayern he was just this cute kid everyone started hating for no reason, but we got along well. When he scored that goal against Argentina… It was hot.” Jerome looks almost turned on at this point, and Manuel has no clue what to do with these admissions so he’s stuck nodding again.

“So yeah, last night, after waiting so long… God, he was hard to get.” Jerome laughs to himself, giving Manuel a look that is almost sheepish. “Been wining and dining him on and off for months. Almost got to fuck him last month but he was too annoyed about the Super Cup loss to Dortmund. Guess being with the NT makes him feel more agreeable cause of the success we had together. Am I over-sharing?” The question makes Manuel stiffen a little, but he brushes it off.

 

“It’s fine.” He says, and it really is. They’ve been team mates and friends for a long time now, why would he pretend to be some shy virgin priest who can’t hear about his buddy’s conquests. The idea of sweet Mario Götze being only a conquest does sort of feel off to him though, so he finds himself asking: “You like him?”

 

Jerome shrugs beside him, looking more serious all of a sudden. “After all this time, seducing him or whatever… Built him up in my head, got to know him better… we’ll see.” Manuel guesses this is the defender’s way of saying “Now that the hunt is over, we ought to try and see what normal interaction brings us.” and that actually makes perfect sense to him.

 

Manuel has been there – in his late teens and early twenties when a couple of girls would string him a long for a long time. By the time, they finally tried their hand at an actual relationship one of them had turned out to be nothing like the image Manuel had in his head. He’d been left with the memory of their hot “finally doing it” sex and that was it. With a look at Chris on the pitch, Manuel smiles a little. Even though he pined after the boy during their whole stay in Brazil, they did get to each other relatively quick, and they’re better off for it. Come to think of it, Christoph never played hard to get with him, not even once. Manuel loves that.

 

 

 

At the end of training, when they’re about to get back to the hotel, Thomas appears with Mario Gomez in tow and hands Manuel and the rest of his team mates a piece of paper each, a triumphant expression on his face.

 

“There we go! Balance has been restored in the world.” He says enthusiastically, hand on his hip and back straightened out. Manuel raises an eyebrow at him before looking down at the paper. It’s Satan’s List, revised.

 

 

_Boateng – Götze_

_Gomez – Müller_

_Rudy – Höwedes_

_Schürrle – Kroos_

_Durm – Reus_

_Kramer – Neuer_

_Schweinsteiger  - Podolski_

 

 

This Manuel finds much more agreeable, and he didn’t even have to bring up the topic himself. He looks up at Thomas, wondering how in the world he managed to re-arrange their rooming situation while “sightseeing” in Düsseldorf. “How-“ he starts to ask, but Mario Gomez gives him a look that could possibly pass of as terrified while shaking his head at him, and Manuel closes his mouth. Next to him Chris chuckles, and Manuel wants to pinch his ass in punishment, but he doesn’t. He has other ideas for Chris’ ass today.

 

“Thanks, Thomas.” Can be heard among the team, along with a “Marco and I were in a room before, too, how is this restoring a balance?” from Erik, whose question received no response from anybody. After his talk with Jerome, Manuel understands why no one would delve into explaining _that_.

 

 

 

 

They lose against Argentina, and it sucks. Manuel is a perfectionist, always has been, always will be. And he was captain tonight so this is just complete bullshit, whichever way you look at it. In the tunnel before the match, he’d sought Chris out, thankfully finding the younger man right behind him. Chris had smiled up at him, giving him a sweet, almost innocent look. Manuel was happy to see Christoph so light hearted, it made him that way too. Chris was good for him.

 

When the match ends, Chris approaches him without hesitation, only acceptance and comfort. He notes Manuel’s frown and his furrowed eyebrows, and does not comment on the goal keeper’s serious look. He sticks close to Manuel in the locker room, then all the way to the bus; and they sit together on the way back to the hotel, with Chris’ hand resting on top of Manuel’s. He doesn’t squeeze or do anything else to try and distract Manuel from his displeasure, and the goal keeper is grateful for the respect of his feelings. Even after this short while, Chris knows Manuel well enough to let him feel the emotions behind a loss, even if the match doesn’t mean anything in the long run.

 

When Chris helps Manuel move his bags to his room, the older man finally lets himself think about how he got so lucky to have Christoph by his side. Destiny himself may have brought them together on the national team, Manuel might even believe that tonight. It sounds sappy, even in his head, but as he watches Chris place his duffel next to the bed, it also feels real. More real than anything he has felt the past few months, aside from winning the Cup.

 

They have dinner in the restaurant again, and it is somewhat more peaceful and calm tonight. The atmosphere manages to work its magic on Manuel too, but then again maybe that’s just Chris’ presence instead. In the beginning, they eat mostly in comfortable silence, but eventually Manuel does feel compelled to break it, and they end up talking about the actual Euro 2016 Qualifiers coming up. Neither of them says “We’ll do better.” It’s implied.

 

For some unexplainable reason, Manuel ends up bringing up Jerome and Mario, which in turn makes Chris choke on his water. The younger man stares at Manuel for a moment, then bursts out laughing. It’s adorable, and for the moment the goal keeper even forgets why Christoph is laughing in the first place. Then finally, Chris’ chuckles dial down and he hides his face behind his palms. “My God… that wink last night… He was showing off his date? I can’t… hahahaha.” His laugh is contagious and Manuel ends up laughing as well.

 

By the time they’re done with dinner, the mood is lighter than the previous night’s. Manuel feels unburdened enough to kiss Chris in the elevator after the other passengers get off before them and they’re left alone. This time he presses the younger man against the elevator wall for a moment before they part, and revels in the hooded look Chris gives him after. The boy’s eyes are so deep, Manuel could swim in them. He barely stops himself from getting another kiss in the corridor in front of their room. _Their room_ – he likes the sound of that. Balance has indeed been restored. As they enter it, Manuel remembers the conversation from last night. The privacy of their room lures him into bring it up again.

 

“Did you have anything else to tell me last night?” he asks, eyes trained on Chris where the younger man is slipping out of his shoes. Chris searches his mind for a moment before he realizes what Manuel is referring to, and shrugs, suddenly looking bashful. Manuel feels a familiar tug in his gut and closes in on him, feeling bold but careful at the same time. Chris does face him, straightening up and looking Manuel in the eye. There is that thrill again, of not having to bend down to meet Christoph’ gaze – Manuel loves that.

 

“You know…” Chris is practically blushing, but there is something defiant in his eyes. He’s set on saying what he has to say, Manuel notes, happily. “I didn’t wait 23 years to have sex with the best goal keeper in the world, to only start sleeping around right after I got him.” There is a hint of a smirk on the younger man’s lips which Manuel wants to kiss away. So he does, going in again and again until they’re both breathless and Chris’ knees buckle so he has to slip his arms around the boy’s waist to keep him up and against him. Chris is warm and he feels real good plastered into Manuel.

 

“Good, because I’m not going to share you.” Manuel says simply, like it’s not a loaded statement. Something flickers in Christoph’s eyes, and he bites his lower lip while holding Manuel’s gaze. Then he nods, leaning in slowly for another kiss, one that feels almost like a brand on the goalkeeper’s lips. Manuel thinks to himself that maybe, he has some things to consider and make a change to. But that can wait until tomorrow. Tonight, he takes Chris to bed.

 

It’s a tight fit, since they share Chris’ queen sized one but Manuel hasn’t the slightest intention to not sleep in the same bed with his boyfriend. His arms are firm around Christoph’s waist, the boy’s back to Manuel’s front, as they drift off into sleep.

 

 

Manuel doesn’t know how long he’s been out, but it is still dark outside, and he feels groggy when he is woken up. And he is woken up, by Chris’ hands on his body, and the younger man nuzzling into his neck. Manuel hums and strokes Christoph’s back soothingly up and down.

 

“I’ve to say something.” Chris’ voice is mellow, but so clear to Manuel’s ears in the silence of the room, that the goalkeeper can’t help but feel wide awake all of a sudden. His heart is pounding under Chris’ open palm on his chest, and he hopes his instinct is not alerting him to something bad. Thankfully, the suspense does not last. Chris slides into his side fully, his head on Manuel’s shoulder and sighs. “I don’t want to share you either… I … It is selfish, I know you have a girlfriend…” In the younger man’s pause, Manuel’s mind is not racing. Maybe whatever choice he thought he had to make, he has somehow already made it. “But I don’t want to share you.” Chris’ voice is small now, like he expects to be rejected right there as they lay together.

 

Manuel does not intend to torture him, neither with silence, nor with such a rejection. “You won’t have to.” He says, his eyes on the ceiling. He vaguely wonders if Katrin knew they’d come to this almost two months ago on that brunch they had together. He wonders if maybe she expects his call.

Chris lets out a chocked little sound against his neck, and rises up on his elbow to look at Manuel’s face. Even in the darkness, as Manuel turns to return his look, they can see each other. Perhaps more clearly than ever. Christoph looks relieved, but when he leans in to kiss Manuel, there is urgency in his motions. Manuel responds with his own yearning, now in full force, since it feels like they’re both diving in the deep end together. Chris crawls fully on top of him as they kiss, deeply, desperately. They have all night, and then more nights like that, but it’s all about the moment, and in this moment Manuel wants to have all of Christoph for himself. He ends up rolling them over and laying into the younger man, the boy’s answering moan to Manuel’s weight on him making the goalkeeper throb and thrust against him.

 

They shed their clothes in a blur; preparation is short with Chris’ squirming and occasional begging for “Now.” and “Please.”, and who is Manuel to deny him. His body feels hot, the need practically overwhelming. By the time he presses into Chris, they both moan like they’re going crazy for it, and perhaps they are. Manuel rocks the boy into the bed, kissing him constantly, the sound of their skin meeting and their muffled groans mixing. They only break apart for air, with Manuel’s thrusts making Chris more vocal and louder in his pleasure. He strokes the boy’s waist, his hips, his thighs, wanting to touch the younger man everywhere. When Manuel is close, fighting to last longer, make it better and better, something between them breaks and Chris speaks up in a whine for the first time since Manuel got inside of him.

 

 “I love you… God, I love you, Manu.”

 

Manuel’s reaction is like an immediate wave rolling over both of them. He squeezes Christoph tight, pulling the boy up and into his body, and stiffens, stilling against him as he comes. Chris is whining and panting, but he doesn’t squirm, just wraps his arms around Manuel’s back and keeps them pressed together, as they tremble into each other. As soon as he comes to his sense, Manuel wraps his fingers around Chris and brings him to the edge in mere seconds. They both shiver, almost shaking through it, until the goal keeper finally pulls back, laying them on their sides and pulling Chris close.

 

Neither of them say anything for a while. Manuel wants to say so much, and yet nothing makes its way out of his mouth. His mind is definitely reeling now. By the time he starts to say something, the boy’s breathing is labored in his sleep. He feels warm and pliant and just right against the goal keeper. Manuel gazes at Chris in the darkness and breathes deeply. Inside, he feels excited and nervous and resolute. They’ve taken this all the way now, and he has no regrets about it. Christoph’s words ring in his ear, a constant repeat. _Fuck_ , Manuel thinks, and smiles. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have received an overwhelming response to the recent Neumer installment, and I feel blessed and treasured and really happy. So here is my thank you. Hope you enjoyed this. Comments are my lifeblood. 
> 
> For those wondering where the Boatze came from, I will be compiling a Boatze-I-Ship-It-And-This-Is-Why-You-Should-As-Well post on Tumblr. For the ones who ship it as well, flail with me, this ship has been torturing me since the World Cup.


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